


Hetalia Oneshots

by Lozzy_Senpai



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Ballerina, Ballet, Cats, Christmas, Dancing, Fluff, FrUK, Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Nekotalia, Puppy Alfred, ballerina!Francis, canonverse, dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lozzy_Senpai/pseuds/Lozzy_Senpai
Summary: Hetalia Oneshot Book - A compilation of random, mostly England and France centric Hetalia oneshots.1) Copycat - A fluffy Christmas FrUK fic2) A Ballet - Ballerina!Francis AU,  in which Arthur falls for Francis completely (and actually gets what he wants).





	1. Copycat

**Author's Note:**

> The FACE family gather for Christmas, and Arthur faces the dilemma of finding a Christmas present for Francis. Turns out Francis is in a similar position himself. Canonverse, partial neko!talia, FrUK fluff.

** Copycat **

  
Arthur knew it was a bad idea to bring Alfred Christmas tree shopping. He was like an overly enthusiastic puppy, or maybe a child would be more accurate; he was only in his third century or something after all. And that was how they ended up buying a nine foot tall tree just to shut him up.

Arthur grimaced as it scraped harshly along the ceiling, the ceiling that really wasn’t that high.

He sighed, “America you moron, I told you it wouldn’t fit. But did you listen? No, you didn’t, you didn’t listen to a bloody word I was saying.”

“But it looks so good! It’s gonna be awesome when we get all the lights and decorations up.”

“I don’t care if the tree looks good. I care if the ceiling looks good, and at this rate it most definitely will not.”

“You’re such a Scrooge, Iggy.”

Francis was standing nearby looking worried - most likely trying to stay away from the ridiculous mess his guests were making - in the large living room that was quickly becoming carpeted with pine needles that would probably stick around hiding in nooks and crannies for long after the initial clean-up. When he said Arthur, Matthew and Alfred could come to his house for Christmas, he probably didn’t consent to this destruction.

“I must admit, for once I actually agree with Arthur. What did my ceiling ever do to you Alfred?”

Arthur carefully removed his hold from the Christmas tree and it remained standing, wedged between the ceiling and the floor.

“Although, this wouldn’t be a problem if your frog shops didn’t sell such big trees.”

Francis exhaled in disbelief. “Arthur that is so stupid. At least mine are big and not micro-trees like the ones they sell across the French Channel.”

“The English Channel!”

Alfred interjected before their bickering got too strange. “Right, dudes, stop. It doesn’t matter now, we should just concentrate on transforming this boring house into an amazing festive grotto.”

Francis let out a sob. “Please no.”

Matthew returned not long later wrapped up in thick layers and red faced from the cold. He went back and forth in the house with the bags of groceries he had so kindly offered to pick up, and, both Arthur and Francis noticed with dismay, many more Christmas decorations. They were sat in the living room, Arthur embroidering and Francis reading the newspaper, trying unsuccessfully not to be distracted by the overly enthusiastic American who was running around the house chucking tinsel on random objects, sticking fairy light all over the place, and hanging up crappily homemade A4 paper snowflakes.

Matthew sat himself down on a nearby sofa to take off his shoes.

“Sure is cold out there, eh?”

“ _Oui_ ,” Francis replied, “it’s freezing for this part of France this year. We’ve already had snow, and we’ll most likely have more.”

Alfred leaped into the room. “Mattie! How many decorations did you get? This is gonna be insane, I’m so excited for Christmas!”

Matthew jumped up, “Same! We should put all of them up now!”

“Jesus, are you six years old?” Arthur groaned, although lightheartedly - he wasn’t being too serious. “Anyway before you run off again and I lose all hope of getting the lot of us together in a room at the same time, what would everyone like for Christmas? Because if you don’t ask for anything you aren’t getting anything.”

“Hey Artieee?” Alfred said in that asking-for-something voice, “That new aircraft carrier you’ve been working on looks pretty sweet…”

“Hah, in your dreams. Something a bit more realistic please, a bit more human.”

Francis couldn’t seem to think of anything he wanted, while Alfred only shouted idiotic suggestions and Matthew politely asked for a new packet of hockey balls and nothing more. Arthur sighed, having got nothing of use from the conversation. He’d have to think of something himself.

Alfred would be easy. Some McDonald’s coupons and a couple of BBC box sets would suffice perfectly well, and he could get Matthew’s hockey balls and maybe a collection of maple syrup (not entirely ironically). Then it just came down to Francis. Francis had always been quite difficult to get presents for; he was never afraid to say that the cologne or scarf or whatever Arthur had tried to get for him was an awful choice and that he had the sense of fashion of a dead goose.

Especially since they were all spending the Christmas together, Arthur felt like he should get something really good. Something to show he does actually care. Arthur and Francis’ relationship was strange. They had know each other for centuries, millennia even, and their history certainly wasn’t a pretty one. But they had tried to put the past behind them and were currently in some kind of indescribable relationship, albeit a sexual one at that. They always had been really, not that they would actually tell anyone that, but only recently had it become something actually vaguely romantic.

Arthur was starting to tire of the seemingly infinite amount of energy output from the decorating process that Matthew had unfortunately joined in with, shedding his timid exterior for the sake and excitement of Christmas. Arthur decided to go into town for a little bit to do his last bit of Christmas shopping and hopefully get some inspiration for Francis.

Last minute before leaving, Arthur decided to bring Alfred with him. It might calm him down a bit or something, tire him out, and he might be a help thinking of what to get for Francis.

“Alfred, you big goofball, get over here. Come to town with me for some Christmas shopping, would you?”

“Aww but it’s cold.” He was wearing a glittery Christmas hat with reindeer horns on top.

“That was a rhetorical question, let me rephrase that. Come to town with me. No doubt you still have things you need to buy and I’d like your opinions.”

Alfred huffed and pouted but shuffled off to get ready nonetheless. Sometimes it really did feel like he was still Arthur’s little colony, and he was filled with a sad nostalgia just thinking about it. He didn’t mean to but Arthur often seemed to act like a parent to Alfred, or at least a big brother, just in the way they interact sometimes. Luckily, they didn’t clash much anymore since Alfred has all the ‘freedom’ he needs.

They took the bus into the city centre simply for convenience, which was full of shivering people in big coats and thick scarves, not unlike themselves. Alfred and Arthur walked down the bustling street, packed with merry shoppers despite the cold, who were there for similar reasons as them.

Arthur had bought a couple of things, including a present for Alfred that he had managed to sneak past him. Alfred decided to buy another Christmas jumper for himself, claiming that “You can’t have too many Christmas jumpers!”. They were just leaving a soap and candle shop (that had mostly drawn them in due to the wonderful smell) when a particular shop that hadn’t paid him much notice in the past caught Arthur’s eye. It was a pet shop.

Arthur found himself heading straight for it; vaguely aware of leaving Alfred behind fiddling with his various bags; with an exciting, fresh wave of inspiration flooding his thoughts. He had always imagined Francis being a little lonely in his big, usually empty house, perhaps like himself in his own, and only then did he think of the idea of actually finding some permanent company for him.

Arthur pushed at the decorated door, the bell tingling as it opened and immersed him in a pleasant gust of warm air. He could immediately smell that distinct animal smell - a mixture of pet food and hay and animal excrement and that very specific dog smell that could never be anything else other than dog. It was cosy and attractive inside the shop; there was a pretty Christmas tree in the corner as well as various fairy lights and a nice combination of light, warm colours to adorn the walls and furniture. There was a large area for dogs specifically, a smaller section for reptiles and fish and another for rodents and rabbits. Arthur made his way straight past these and to the cat area.

To Arthur, cats had always been the first choice when it came to animals or pets. He thought them perfect in almost every way; they were adorable and fluffy, they minded their own business, they were mature and composed (most of the time), and didn’t require the ridiculous amount of attention that often hyperactive dogs needed. He assumed Francis would think the same. Despite their frequent conflict they had always seemed to agree on trivial things like that.

There were large cages set up with a diverse range of kittens sitting and playing inside. Arthur felt his happiness grow simply by looking at the little creatures. Their eyes were wide and twinkling; their varying lengths of fur fluffy and soft looking, many with unique, charming patterns. They were playing around, rolling on the ground and batting harmlessly at each other with cute little paws.

A shop assistant approached Arthur asking if he needed any help, but he assured him that he was just browsing for now. And browsing he was. He crouched a little so that his eye level was a bit closer to the kittens’ own, and looked at each one closely with a little smile (of which there were about a couple of dozen throughout all of the cages). Alfred appeared next to Arthur, obviously having seen where he went and following after.

“Jeez, what’s with you disappearing off and leaving me behind? I almost dropped all of my stuff. Why’d you wanna come to the pet shop anyway?”

Arthur sighed and gave a little scowl (although he didn’t really feel like it with such a pure lot of creatures jumping around in front of him).

“Gotta admit though, those kittens are pretty freaking adorable. You should take one home!”

“Alfred, I was thinking maybe I would get one for Francis, as a Christmas present. Do you think he would like that?”

Alfred wasn’t expecting that, and his slightly surprised expression morphed into one of thought as he gave a couple of exaggerated “ooh”s and “hmm”s. “I reckon he’d really like that,” Alfred said after a few moments, “he likes cats a lot, if I remember right, and they are damn cute kittens.”

With Alfred’s opinion confirming his decision, Arthur mentally braced himself for having to pick one out of all the cats. It seemed cruel to leave any of them. He looked between them all; there was a timid tabby sitting in the corner of one of the cages, a sleek but perhaps a little too excitable black kitten jumping around, a muddy grey one with beautifully bright blue eyes, a little white cat with long, flowing fur. This last one caught Arthur’s eye the most. It was washing itself thoroughly, keeping its flowing fur in good condition and almost looking like it was showing off. Its brilliant blue eyes were strangely smug and it seemed to know Arthur was looking at it, sweeping its voluminous tail around dramatically.

Arthur sighed and laughed at the same time. “Hey Alfred, don’t you think this one would be just right? It reminds me exactly of Francis, and it appears as if it would look after itself well enough.”

Alfred assessed the kitten using his thinking noises again, and eventually laughed his loud, obnoxious laugh. “Bro, you’re right! It’s got that pompous flamboyance that Francis has, and they almost look similar. C’mon, you have to get this one, it’s so perfect!”

And that’s how Arthur ended up reserving and buying this weird little kitten for Francis. The pet shop confirmed that he was a neutered male that was up to date in all of his medical requirements, and Arthur signed all of the required forms and papers. All he had to do then was pick him up from the shop on Christmas morning.

**~o0O0o~**

Francis and Matthew had cooked them all Christmas pancakes for breakfast, and the four of them wolfed them down heartily. It was snowy but bright outside; the sun was dazzling and the twinkling snow brought skeletal trees back to life; the festive mood was almost visible in Francis’ extremely Christmassy house. Arthur had woken up a little early to pop to the pet shop - the charming Francis-cat seemed happy to see him and was currently sitting in a large wrapped box with breathing holes and toys inside to hopefully keep him entertained. Arthur didn’t want him to be stuck in the box for too long since it would be rather cruel, but they would be opening presents before long.

Alfred and Matthew were fidgety and buzzing with excitement like children, it was obvious just by looking at them, and Arthur could tell Francis feeling the mood too by his cheerful laughs and sneaking glances at the colourful gifts clustered under the Christmas tree. They quickly cleared up in the kitchen and Alfred and Matthew dragged their two seniors into the living room to open presents. They sat close on the sofa and whispered a few things to each other with a giggle, looking between Francis and Arthur, who raised an eyebrow at them curiously. They were being very obviously suspicious, like they were hiding something, but Arthur didn’t bother to question them. They probably were just excited about a present or something.

Arthur sat down on his armchair as Alfred picked out the first present from under the tree to be opened; of course one for himself. He ripped it open with unchallenged excitement, Alfred’s eyes gleaming with happiness and his white-toothed grin wide. They spent almost an hour opening presents, and everyone had ended up managing to find plenty of gifts for each other. Francis often had to go into the kitchen for a few minutes to look after their big Christmas lunch he was cooking, and mouth-watering smells of the roast turkey kept them hungry despite all the chocolate they were consuming.

Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so happy - his part of the world had been very peaceful recently, but he hadn’t actively taken the time to simply enjoy himself in the company of the people he loved. He supposed he got why his people made such a big deal out of Christmas and its traditions. It really was rather fun.

Once the last present had been pulled from under the tree and opened, Arthur pushed some scrunched up wrapping paper off his lap and stood up.

“I have one last present up in my bedroom, I’ll get it now.”

“Oh, as do I.” Francis piped up, standing too.

Arthur furrowed his brows. “Copycat.”

He ran up to his room and picked up the box with the kitten in. Arthur suddenly felt a twinge of anxiety in the pits of his stomach. What if Francis didn’t like it? What if he and the cat hate each other, or he doesn’t want to have to look after it? Was this really a good idea? Arthur sighed and shook his head. This was silly, it was too late anyway. He carried the cage to the living room, being careful not to hit it on any walls or door frames.

Francis had already brought his gift in and it was sitting by his feet - a box with pretty red and silver shiny wrapping paper, only a little smaller than Arthur’s. Francis picked up the present and held in out to Arthur, who did the same, before they swapped boxes. It wasn’t too heavy but was strangely weighted, and Arthur didn’t actually think once about what the present was until he opened it.

Each of them tore at the top of the paper and pulled the lid off at the same time. Arthur looked down into the box. He was so surprised all he could do was stare.

Lying at the bottom of the little cage, was a kitten.

It was half-asleep, it looked like, though its eyes were just open revealing striking green, slitted eyes. The short fur was a creamy white, with large beige patches, and its tail looked quite short but very fluffy. Its ears were small and folded over which Arthur thought looked very cute, and the fur above its large eyes was long a darker, almost like it had eyebrows.

Arthur still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He dragged his eyes away from the kitten and looked up to Francis, who he just caught doing the same. Francis was usually a very smooth, composed man (apart from when they were fighting); it was difficult to surprise him. But surprise him Arthur did.

Francis’ mouth was slightly agape and he looked as bewildered as Arthur assumed he looked similar to himself. It made it obvious that Francis hadn’t planned this, so was it just a coincidence? Breaking him out of his daze were the hysterical laughs of the two younger nations. Matthew was covering his mouth and trying (not very hard) to keep his voice down, while Alfred was full-on cackling with open-mouthed laughter.

Arthur scowled, “Shut up, you’ll scare the cats.”

They quietened down a minuscule amount, not really bothering to do what he said.

“Did you two plan this? Is that what you were whispering about earlier?”

Matthew managed to compose himself just enough to speak. “Haha, nah we didn’t plan it. You two came up with your ideas all by yourself, you know! We just found out from each other because Francis asked me for help to decide, and you asked the same of Alfred.”

Arthur gave a shallow chuckle of disbelief. What are the chances?

“It’s beautiful, Arthur.” Francis held the box with Francis-cat in closer so Arthur could see him sitting inside, licking a paw.

“I thought you might like him. He reminded me of you.”

“And the same with this Scottish Fold. He looks just like you usually do, cute and grumpy at the same time.”

Arthur gave Francis’ arm a light punch, but without really thinking about it, he pulled him forward into a warm hug.

“Thank you Francis. I hope they get along.”

“ _Merci_ , Arthur. I’m sure they will.”

Francis planted a kiss on Arthur’s head, and ignored Alfred and Matthew’s giggling in the background.

**~o0O0o~**

The two kittens approached each other wearily. All four nations were stood around them, anxiously waiting to see how the confrontation would go down.

Arthur-cat crept forward and as soon as they were in arm’s distance, he lifted his paw slowly to pat on Francis-cat’s shoulder. Francis-cat leant back away from his touch, looking mildly disgusted, but got closer again to give the kitten a thorough sniff. There was about half a minute of the both of them just smelling each other, obviously curious but wary of these new scents. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment, and Arthur held his breath, waiting for them to go full psycho on each other.

Instead, Francis-cat stepped forward and gave Arthur-cat a couple of licks on his back, who rubbed into his chest in response. Arthur didn’t understand the complexities of cat language, but he was pretty sure he got what that mean.

“Look at that. Us two, getting along well.”

Francis laughed. “I suppose they’re not quite our kitten personifications exactly. But I’m very glad they’re getting along.”

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if they immediately tried to kill each other,” Matthew said with a sweet smile, “but I guess animals are always unpredictable.”

They watched as the two cats settled down in a corner, lying next two each other. Francis-cat’s loud purring could be heard from the other side of the room, and when they got closer they could just about hear Arthur-cat’s soft purrs under the volume. The sight of the little kittens snuggling together was heart-warming, and Arthur couldn’t stop a smile from creeping to his face. This Christmas had been rather successful. Maybe he would do it again sometime.


	2. A Ballet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur goes to a ballet on a whim, only to find a certain dancer turns his life around. Ballerina!Francis AU, major FrUK <3.

** A Ballet **

The theatre was spacious and filled with an undertone of quiet small talk and the orchestra tuning their instruments. It was dim and hot and Arthur still needed to find his seat.

“Sorry, thanks, sorry about that.”

Arthur tiptoed along the row of seats, feeling a little bad for the people who he made stand so that he could get past, despite his profuse apologising. He finally reached a lone seat and quickly checked his ticket to make sure he was in the right place. It was a bit of a relief to sit down after having to run through the streets of town to make it to the show in time.

Arthur wasn’t too sure why he went to the ballet; he had booked it a few months ago for some reason, supposedly he could do with a night out doing something different for once. He didn’t even think he liked ballets very much, but it was a show for the New Year’s and it looked like one of the best things on. He worked at a desk for most of his days - doing finance work for a large company based nearby - so he really felt like a break.

Not a minute after he sat down, the lights dimmed even further and a hush spread through the audience. Arthur put away the programme he had been reading and looked up to the opening curtains. The stage was revealed, displaying a beautifully made set as the first dancers skipped into view. They danced in time to the rhythm and mood of the music created flawlessly by the orchestra, and Arthur thought they were really rather good. Their costumes were contemporary and slightly unusual, but worked very well to convey their idea while remaining beautifully elegant.

Arthur found himself happily absorbed in the performance, his eyes flicking between every ballerina, not wishing to miss anything. There must have been about fifteen minutes of calmness in Arthur’s mind during the show, for that was how long it was until a certain dancer made his appearance.

One moment everything seemed normal, and the next was like nothing would ever be the same.

A man leaped onto the stage, plunging straight into his routine of jumps and pirouettes and glides. Arthur’s breath hitched and his stomach clenched. He was beautiful.

Every single movement he made was so elegant it barely looked real. Every flick of the wrist and kick of the foot was so perfectly controlled and smooth; his dancing was better than Arthur even thought possible. He had probably seen that standard on television before, but seeing it in real life and so close up was a completely different experience. Arthur had managed to book a seat only a couple of rows back from the stage, so he could see practically every detail of this amazing person in front of him.

His hair was blonde and near shoulder-length, but was carefully styled in a sort of half updo with a pretty blue ribbon. His costume was impressive and showed off his slim but masculine figure with a glistening cerulean shirt and a slightly darker waistcoat of the same hue, embellished with all manner of sequins, lace and glass buttons that twinkled in the bright stage lights. From the hips down, he was wearing nothing but very figure-hugging white leotard tights (that really left nothing to the imagination), which he knew were common for male ballerinas.

Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off him. The lighting was no different to before he made his appearance, but it looked to Arthur as if the brightened spotlight was on this man and only this man. He felt so thankful in that moment that he got to sit so close to the stage because this man’s face was beautiful. Flawless skin, perfectly set features, a light shading of stubble, and the brightest, most beautiful blue eyes Arthur had ever seen. The dancer’s sapphire costume only helped to accentuate the colour.

And all of a sudden, he was gone.

Arthur immediately felt at loss; he didn’t know what to do. Everything was so intense and engaging that the moment his view of this man was gone, he was practically empty.

He sat back in his seat - he realised he had been leaning forward intently - and tried to relax himself, to clear his mind a little. The ballet dancer had just left the stage because that was the end of his part of the routine, obviously. That only lead a pool of anxiety to start draining faster into Arthur’s stomach. What if that was his only part? What if he never gets to see him again? He abruptly remembered with a perhaps unnecessary jolt that he had bought a programme on the way in, and dug straight into his bag in search of it. His hand closed around the booklet and he quickly opened it up, going to the cast page. It barely took a second to spot the dancer’s picture, and to Arthur overwhelming happiness, it was second on the list. A proper, main character.

Arthur looked back up to the stage to check the man hadn’t snuck back on stage without him noticing, confirmed it so, and returned to the programme. He felt a tiny twinge of guilt that he wasn’t watching any of the rest of the ballet at this point, but he found didn’t really care. Squinting his eyes against the darkness and turning the page to the light, he eventually managed to read the small writing next to the extremely handsome photo. Francis Bonnefoy. Interesting name. _Beautiful_ name. Arthur skipped over the part about all the dance schools he went to and replaced his gaze on the picture. Yet again, Arthur attempted to clear his mind a little bit and think more rationally. Why was he acting so crazy over a guy he had literally seen dancing for only a few minutes? He was a ridiculously attractive guy, that’s for sure, or at least that's how he looked to him, but who was he to judge this person so much based purely on appearance? He was an amazing, obviously dedicated dancer too, of course, but he could still be a completely horrible person. Arthur kept telling himself that, only in attempts to not fall completely, but he still couldn’t really help it. He supposed he was just such an unbelievably attractive, talented dancer that he wanted to be able to look at him and appreciate him forever.

A few amazed gasps gave him all the signal he needed to know that Francis was back. Arthur whipped his head back up and saw him instantly, like he was the only person on stage. It felt like Arthur was in a trance, he didn’t think he was even blinking. He tried to tell himself it was silly, and he could see that it was, but that just wasn’t enough to persuade himself to stop.

The rest of the performance passed in a flash. Arthur was hot and dazed by the end, and he desperately tried to maintain his view on Francis as he left the stage after bows. That was, of course, impossible.

Arthur absolutely could not just leave it like that, and quickly devised his plan to find this wondrous dancer again. He wasn’t too sure what he’d actually achieve from that, or what he would do when he did, but he did it anyway. He tried to leave the theatre quickly, although it proved very difficult with the dozens, probably hundreds, of other people doing the same. After finally making it outside, he briskly walked to where he had happened to see the backstage door along the side of the building when coming in. There were already people coming out, many still with stage makeup on and their hair up, but changed into casual clothes and coats. Arthur panicked a little; Francis might have already left (which would have left him rather devastated), but he waited nonetheless.

Arthur, zoned out and staring sightlessly at the bleak sky, almost didn’t notice the man coming out of the door and passing right in front of him. But the graceful way he walked, even, and the flash of bright blue eyes and blonde hair still held in that pretty half-up half-down style brought Arthur to attention just in time.

“Excuse me?”

His voice came out a tiny bit more manic than he had intended (he hoped his initial impressions didn’t make him come across as a crazy person), but it did the job in capturing the attention of that surreal, suddenly-so-close ballet dancer.

Francis turned to look at Arthur, with one eyebrow slightly raised and a friendly but slightly questioning expression adorning his face.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Oh.

French. That was an undeniably French accent. Of course it was.

Arthur mentally punched himself in the face. _Francis Bonnefoy_. You can’t get much more of a French sounding name than that, how the bloody hell did he not notice?

He sighed inside his head. Oh well. France had never been his favourite place in the world - for some reason he always felt a sort of competitiveness towards the French for no particular reason - perhaps to do with a disastrous family holiday in France he had as a child in which he got left at a restaurant by mistake, bullied by a particularly mean couple of local teens, woken up in the night to find a colony of ants had decided to make his bed home, and got food poisoning from a snail one of his brothers had peer pressured him into eating, all in the space of a week, but that didn’t matter.

Arthur pushed away any silly francophobia - this man was still gorgeous and needed to be appreciated.

“Sorry for stopping you, mister, it’s probably rather irritating, I know, but I just wanted to quickly say something to you if that’s perhaps possible?”

Francis smiled. And holy _fuck_ did that smile look good. “Not at all, it’s my pleasure to talk to a polite gentleman such as you. Not to mention a cute one.” He actually _winked_ , then, and it was like an arrow to the heart.

 _Wow_. He was not expecting that. Arthur thought he might actually faint for just one millisecond of silliness. He’d assumed that Francis would be used to random strangers coming up and wanting to talk to him, and that he’d want to be going straight home after such a tiring performance. Not to mention, _that man_ finding _him_ cute. It just didn’t add up to Arthur.

“Um, I just wanted to say how honestly amazing that performance was. You probably get told that a lot, but I was just so mesmerised by your dancing that I simply had to come and say this to you personally. You’re the best dancer I’ve ever seen.”

Arthur omitted the parts about being mesmerised by his appearance as well as his dancing. Even then, time didn’t quite feel real while looking into his eyes and seeing his face so close up, although he was actually a little shorter than he looked on stage, only a few centimetres above Arthur.

Arthur thought he would just mutter a thanks and leave (that’s probably what he would do himself, to be honest), but Francis’ smile widened and he seemed genuinely thankful.

“That’s so nice of you to say, _merci_. I’m actually quite new to public performances, so it really is lovely to know that. I appreciate it, thank you.”

Arthur supposed he was just lucky Francis wasn’t tired of people like him yet. He probably would be soon. There was then a moment of awkward silence, in which Arthur had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to respond, but Francis was proving to be smooth as silk, and swooped back in to save him.

“My name is Francis Bonnefoy by the way, if you didn’t see in the programme.”

“Arthur Kirkland.”

“That’s a nice name.”

Was this wonderful person actually flirting with him a little bit? With Arthur, who felt like a peasant talking to a god? Francis continued.

“Do you have any plans for dinner, or have you already eaten? Because I need to get food and eating with you sounds infinitely better than eating alone. Fancy it?”

Arthur couldn’t breathe for a second or two. This must be a dream. He passed out waiting outside that backstage door, Francis had already left, and he was dreaming on the dirty floors of the city. But he wasn’t waking up, and he had never felt such intense emotions and feelings in a dream before.

Arthur didn’t know what to say. Not once had he considered that this might have happened to him. He was, in fact, previously planning on getting dinner out, alone, and so he saw absolutely no reason why he should decline. The main problem, then, was getting the words out without sounding like an idiot.

“Uh, s-sure. I think I’d like that, thank you.”

And that was that. A date. Or at least a heavily implied date, but Arthur could tell by Francis’ expression and tone that that was exactly what it was. Arthur hadn’t been in a relationship, or dating really, for probably over a year; he was busy with his job and other priorities and dating wasn’t really a burning need of his. Until now.

Francis gave him a very slightly seductive little grin, and hooked his arm into Arthur’s own, gently pulling him along. Touch was on a completely new level compared to sight. Arthur’s stomach exploded with butterflies and he felt shivery tingles move through random areas of his body, a feeling he had only properly felt with a select few special people. He walked along with Francis, as he encouraged, and felt hypersensitive to his stylish woolen coat.

Arthur knew a date like this would most commonly lead to nothing, and he would’ve even been okay with that. Just this was much more than he had asked for. Francis could (although it was seeming more and more unlikely) still be a terrible person, or they just don’t connect or work well together, or Francis could end up really disliking him (that was more likely, quite a lot of people did), but you never know what can happen. Life has its ways of surprising you.

“So, Arthur,” Francis began, “what do you like to eat?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a happy 2018 everyone!!! Oneshot inspired by a ballet I went to around Christmas. I like how this turned out, although I still think it is a little weird, maybe? I think this sort of thing is pretty unrealistic in real life, but that shouldn’t stop us from writing about it anyway (especially with otps xD). Francis and Arthur are destined for each other, always, so I say that makes it not weird, heheh. Love you all, see you soon!! (๑>◡<๑)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this fluffy little Christmas oneshot! I decided to make a oneshot book and I’ll probably be adding to it every once in a while :D. Merry Christmas everyone, or happy Hanukkah, or whatever you celebrate at this time of year :). See you soon!!!


End file.
